The Heiress and the Hitman

Chapter Ten: CUMMING CLEAN

I watch Nicolai stiffen. Every muscle coiled like a predator finally given permission to pounce. His thick ridge twitches visibly against the front of his pants, taunt and straining so hard the fabric looks ready to split. I can almost see it pulse. Our bodies are close, his heat radiating through me and sending sensual shivers down my spine. My mouth waters again, shamelessly.

I want to ruin him. f**k it. I'd let him ruin me...

My hands slide down his chest slowly, nails scraping lightly over scarred skin until my fingers find the heavy silver buckle of his belt. I hook two fingers under the leather and tug slowly. Deliberately watching his face the entire time. His jaw locks, nostrils flaring. A low, tortured sound rumbles in his throat.

“You’re playing with fire, little liar,” he rasps.

I smile, sweet and wicked. My voice drops to a husky whisper. “Good. I like getting burned.”

My fingers work swiftly as I unbuckle his belt. Nicolai is barely breathing now, his eyes following my every movement as I drag the belt free inch by torturous inch, letting the leather whisper against itself until it slithers to the floor with a soft thud. By the time I get to the zipper, his breathing turns ragged. I palm him through the fabric first with long, slow strokes that make his hips jerk forward involuntarily. Then I slip my hand inside his pants.

The moment my fingers close around him, my confidence fractures.

God. He’s massive—thick enough that my thumb and fingers don’t even meet, long enough that I can’t wrap my hand fully around the base. I swallow hard, throat suddenly dry and aching with hunger.

Nicolai’s lips curve into a dark, knowing smile. “What’s wrong, dear?” His voice is velvet wrapped in gravel, dripping with mockery. “Bite off more than you can chew?”

I try to glare, but it comes out dazed. Hungry. My core clenches around nothing. What was he doing to me?

He leans in, lips brushing my ear. “You look so pretty when you’re scared of my cock...”

The shift in him is electric. His anger bleeding into something far more dangerous now. His eyes flicker with something raw, possessive. His good arm bands around my waist and hauls me flush against him. My breath hitches.

“Now you get punished." he growls. “For your dirty little lies... for trying to f**k with my head.”

I tilt my head back, lips grazing his jaw. “Then stop yapping about punishing me…” My voice drops to a sultry whisper. “Just do it. Punish me.”

That’s all it takes.

He crashes into me, mouth claiming mine in a kiss that’s all teeth and desperation. His tongue strokes mine fiercely. Deep and possessive. Tasting like fury and want. His fingers slide between my thighs. He has easy access, since my thong is now forgotten scrap on the floor.

He slips inside me without preamble. Two thick fingers curl, stroking that spot that makes my knees buckle... But I want more than just fingers. I moan into his mouth.

Then I flip us.

I shove him back just enough to break the kiss, spin him so his back hits the island edge, and drop to my knees on the cold kitchen tile. Surprise cuts through his lust induced haze and his expression is almost quizzical. I have no idea of what I'm doing either. I only know I want this. Badly. I'll think of the consequences later...

My nightgown is sticking to my skin now, wrapping around me like spilled ink. I look up at him through my lashes, lips inches from his hard length now slick and leaking with precum.

“I’d like my punishment now, please,” I murmur, voice soft and innocent—like I’m asking for a bedtime story.

His eyes widen for a split second then his control shatters.

One hand fists my long dark hair, gathering it into a rough ponytail at the nape of my neck. He tries to move his broken left hand and curses sharply. His right hand releases my hair and wraps around his base, stroking himself once, slowly, letting me watch the way his thumb swipes over the slit and spreads pre-c*m. My mouth waters.

“You’re going to take every inch,” he says slowly, tilting his head to stare down at me. “And when I’m done, you’re going to remember who owns this pretty little mouth. Lies or no lies, Aria... you're Mine now. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” I breathe, eyes locked on his.

His eyes darken with unsettling satisfaction and he guides himself to my lips.

“Open.”

I obey.

He slides in slowly at first, torturously. I feel every ridge, every vein against my tongue. A strangled sound escapes from the back of his throat. His hand fists my hair again, wrapping it around his hand in a swift motion.

My eyes water instantly. He’s too big—stretching my jaw, filling my mouth until my throat flutters in protest. I gag softly; he curses under his breath and stills, letting me adjust to his girth.

Then he starts to move.

Shallow thrusts at first, then he goes deeper, faster, rougher... His hand tightens in my hair, holding me exactly where he wants me. I hollow my cheeks, swirl my tongue and take him as deep as I can until tears spill down my cheeks and my throat works around him.

A faint noise registers somewhere in the background cutting through the haze briefly. The sound of a faint metallic click, but I’m too lost in the taste of him, the weight of him, the way he’s f*****g my mouth like he owns it. My eyes flutter close. My folds are slick with my wetness now, almost dripping to my thighs. I suppress a moan, the sound sending a deep vibration down his c**k.

He’s close. I can feel it in the way his thighs tense, the way his strokes turn erratic.

“I’m gonna come in your mouth,” he warns, breathless, his voice fraying. “Swallow every f*****g drop, Aria.”

I grip his thighs harder, suck harder and hum around him.

"f**k—" He breaks with a guttural groan... His hips snapping forward as he spills his seed down my throat in hot, thick pulses which I swallow greedily, milking every last drop until he’s shuddering and spent.

He pulls out with a wet pop, his chest heaving. My thighs are a trembling mess now.

He hauls me off the floor with his good arm like I weigh nothing, spins us, and pins me against the nearest wall, slipping between my legs. His slick c**k—still half-hard—presses hot against the juncture of my thighs. He strokes my hair back from my damp face.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against my temple, his voice a low, reverent purr.. “Such a good girl… taking your punishment so well.”

He kisses me. Slow, filthy, tasting himself on my tongue...

The elevator dings.

We both freeze.

Wait a second—the elevator?

My gaze snaps toward the foyer. The shutters—the steel panels that should still be locked down for at least another eight hours are retracted. Open. I'd been so distracted, I didn't even hear the shutters retract. The lockdown had been disabled. How? Did someone call the police? Marcus perhaps...

Before I can react... The elevator doors doors slide apart. My blood runs cold.

A woman steps out... Identical to me down to the last eyelash. Same dark hair, same sharp cheekbones, same full lips except mine was currently swollen and tingling from Nicolai’s c**k. But where I’m disheveled, flushed, nightgown askew, she is immaculate. A Crimson silk dress hugging every curve... Heels clicking with lethal precision.

Nicolai’s arm tightens around me protectively. His voice is rough, confused.

“Aria?”

The woman’s gaze flickers over to us. She takes in Nicolai's bare chest, my swollen mouth, his possessve hold pinning me against the wall. Her expression gives nothing away.

“Wrong.” Her voice is cold and lethal. “I’m Audrey Hudson.”

Her gaze drills into Nicolai, deadly calm. My heart slams against my ribs.

“Who the hell are you… and what are you doing with my Sister?”